Journey of a Gondorian
by Nomad Princess
Summary: If Boromir had a journal, this is what it might look like.
1. Prologue

Journey of a Gondorian

By Nomad Princess

Summary: If Boromir had a journal, this is what it might look like.

Author's Note: Ok, so this isn't really what I think it would have looked like, if I were strictly following Tolkien's story line, but I can't help but deviate at least a little. I am very familiar with LotR, but, being an imperfect human being I will make mistakes here and there. If you catch anything glaring (storyline, grammar, spelling) please let me know so I can fix it.

Disclaimer: If you're reading this story, you ought to know who owns LotR - and it ain't me, unfortunately.

Warnings: I reserve the right to let this story go (pretty much) anywhere it wants to. So AU and OC are strong possibilities. The only thing I can guarantee will not be in this story is slash.

Reviews are cherished. Praise, when due, is gladly received. Concrit, when necessary, is wisely heeded. Flames, which are never deserved (no matter how 'bad' the story), are used to cook my dinner.

**Prelude**

A fierce wind beat upon the towers of Gondor. It whistled through the corridors, to which it gained entry by creeping through the many shuttered windows. The biting cold it inflicted on all it crossed paths with was only enhanced by the wild moaning and whimpering it bore.

Aragorn, king of the White City, was shut in his library, seated before a blazing fire. His hearing, sharpened by many years spent with the elves and his fellow rangers, caught the eerie sound of voices rushing past the door as they were carried by the cold winter breeze. Looking down at the book in his hands, he shivered involuntarily.

Arwen, seated across from her husband, looked up from her embroidery. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly with concern as she noticed the expression on Aragorn's face.

"What is it, my lord?" She asked gently, her voice as smooth as silk. "What troubles you so?"

With a sigh, the man looked up as well. His grey eyes held a strange, haunted look as he gazed back at his lovely wife.

"It has been three years now," he said quietly. "Three years since the end of the War, since the finding of this book. Yet I do not feel right to read it."

"It is not necessary for you to read it," Arwen leaned forward to place her soft hand on the man's arm.

"I promised Faramir that I would read it. I _must_ read it!" Aragorn shook his head doubtfully. "It is my fault he died, Arwen. I should have been there to save him. I should have been more supportive of him from the beginning, then mayhap he would not have attempted to steal the Ring."

"I thought you were over those feelings, my lord," Arwen murmured as she moved to her knees before the king. "You did as you swore you would, and protected the ring-bearer. It was as Boromir would have desired."

"It is those voices," he said, staring at the book he held. "They seem to accuse me - they are like the voice of Saruman, were he yet alive."

For several moments the couple sat without speaking. The constant crackling of the fire seemed to soothe the king's nerves, though the wind howled louder than ever. Arwen had never seen her husband so out of sorts; it made her somewhat uncomfortable to see him so upset over such a trivial matter. It was she who spoke first.

"Let me read it to you for awhile, my king," she reached for the book. "Mayhap if I begin it will be easier after awhile."

Gladly did Aragorn surrender the volume to his wife. Tenderly she lifted the stained leather cover and turned the first page. Still kneeling before him, she began to read in a most luscious voice.

AN: Yup, it's a short start. I know Aragorn is out of character here, but I think the bad weather is mostly to blame.


	2. Journal Entries 1&2

March 2, Year 2988 , Third Age

Well, I got this book today, for my birthday. Mother gave it to me, and she says I must strive to write in it every day. Every day! She says it will one day be my most valuable possession. I will never believe that a book could be more important to me than a sword - perhaps to Faramir, but never to me. Perhaps it is because he is only five summers old, but he seems far more inclined to spend time in the library than on the training grounds. I shall never understand the lad!

Anyway, I complained to Father about this book. Told him I don't want to write in it, that I'd much rather spend my time practicing with a blade. And he said that if Mother gave it to me, I must write in it! _Father_ did! It seems like he should be on my side about this, but for some reason he is not.

"_Boy," _he said._ "If it will pleasure your mother, you must do it. If you would be happy in life, you must learn the value of pleasing a woman. And she is right; it is to your benefit to learn the skill of writing."_

So I shall be forced to go through this every day, I fear. At the least, I can here lay out all my complaints and indecent thoughts. For now I can think of nothing more to say.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

July 1, Year 3018, Third Age

So here I am, back to my little book at last. Since I am to set out on a journey in three days' time, Faramir saw fit to rifle through my belongings, and he found this.

"_Since when are you allowed to search my chamber?" _I asked him.

"_Since you decided to undertake this dangerous mission yourself, brother. Anyway, all baby brothers sneak into their older brother's chamber when they get the chance. It's my privilege!" _He replied; it does so bother him when I call him 'baby brother' that he likes to throw it back in my face whenever he can. Poor lad, he shall be a baby to me forever, I think.

He is insisting that I take this book with me and record anything of importance that may occur. I suppose that will be everything, as far as he is concerned. He has promised to punish me most severely if I treat my recording as I did back when my mother first gave me this book. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that none encouraged me to continue after her death. I will not despise her gift as I did when I was young, though I still can see no need for it. If it will make my little brother happy, and if it does not hinder my travels, I will do this thing gladly.

Let me tell, then, of my journey. It is to be long and treacherous, I fear, yet that is as naught to me. I go to seek the answer to a strange riddle, sent to me in a dream, such as even the elves may have trouble to answer. I set it down here, that it may be remembered for all time:

_Seek for the Sword that was broken:_

_In Imladris it dwells;_

_There shall be counsels taken_

_Stronger than Morgul-spells._

_There shall be shown a token_

_That Doom is near at hand,_

_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

_And the Halfling forth shall stand. (1)_

Faramir was eager to undertake the trip himself, because he had the dream many times and I but one; yet after a long while I was able to convince him to allow me the journey. Father is none too pleased about it, but much as I respect him, I really don't care. Not only do I relish the thought of the adventure, but I also do not wish to see my baby brother going out into the wilds all alone. Father, I fear, cares far too little for the safety of Faramir. Even as I wrote of my brother those thirty years ago, it is still true. He is a most skilled and valiant warrior, yet he does not hold the same desire for battle that my father and I share. Still would he be content to pour over books and maps, and listen to tales of old. Yet, I know the value of my little brother. He is a noble man, a fearless fighter, and the best of friends. Just see how he would have gladly gone on this perilous journey himself, and not at all from selfish love of adventure, as I do. This is why Father would rather that Faramir go, because of the danger.

As the riddle directs, I shall go to Imladris. I know not precisely where this place may be found, save that it is in the North. It is said that Elrond Half-Elven dwells there, and that he may answer me this riddle. I know not what good it will do to find a broken blade in this time of war, yet Faramir thinks there is some important significance to it. It may be so; I never was one for studying overmuch. If perchance this blade can help us reclaim Osgiliath and overthrow the new darkness that besets us, it will be well worth the effort. If not - I know not what will become of Gondor.

I shall take two horses on my trip. One will be my own destrier, a fine beast of purest Rohirric lineage. The other is a sturdy gelding, which will carry my gear; I fear I must take more vittles with me than I can easily carry on my own horse, due to the length of the road. If the worst came to the worst, the creature itself would also provide enough food to last me many days. Other than that, I shall travel as I would for any other journey. My sword and knife, my heaviest cloak, and my horn. Faramir wishes me to take a map, since I am 'unfamiliar with the land to which I travel', but I have no use for maps, save for laying out battle plans.

Oh yes. I will be carrying this book as well.

* * *

(1) FOTR, part two, chapter two.


	3. Journal Entry 3

AN: Thank you to my reviewers, and sorry for the delay - I've been doing a lot of research, trying to figure out which paths Boromir would have taken, how long each step would be, etc. With 110 days between here and Rivendell, there's bound to be plenty of excitement, so hang on!

________________________________________________________________________

July 4, Year 3018, TA

Ah, day one of my adventure is over already. The last few days before my departure were so filled with hurrying and scurrying that it is especially good to be alone at last. Far too much fuss was made over me as I prepared to depart, and I know not who to blame most, my brother or my father. Valar, the very reason I don't want a woman in my life is because of their continual fussing, and now even the men in my life won't leave me be!

Faramir was pretty bad. "Do you have this," and "do you have that," and "don't leave without…"; on and on he chattered, like a young maid. Damn the lad, he even went and stowed a map in my luggage, after I explicitly told him not to. He thinks I did not see him do the deed, but I did. I removed it and burned it afterwards, for which I am now a little sorry - I believe he drew it himself. Poor boy, at least he doesn't know of the deed. I shall have plenty of time to think of a way to make it up to him before we next meet, at least.

If Faramir was bad, though, our father was five times worse. Of course he has not been himself since mother died, but of late he is truly beginning to worry me. On the eve of my departure he constantly sought me out to beg me not to go, to let Faramir go in my stead. He claimed he fears to lose me, that I have not yet an heir to rule after him in the event of my premature death. This does not concern me overmuch, because first off, I have no intentions of having a premature death; and secondly, if such should be my fate, Faramir and his get shall be stewards. I told my father this, but it only served to infuriate him.

"_All the more reason for you to produce an heir quickly!" _he hissed; I was quite amazed by his tone.

"_What mean you, Father?" _I asked, puzzled by his behavior.

"_I would not have that weakling and his heirs rule Gondor. When our line finally ceases to be steward only, and becomes king, I would have _you _or your son on the throne," _there was a strange hungriness in his eyes as he spoke of the throne, and I admit, I shared that hunger. To be Steward of Gondor is a wonderful thing, but to be king. King! Ever since I was a lad I have desired this thing.

Yet, it angers me when Father puts Faramir down so. It angers me to the point where I sometimes forget my place and argue inappropriately with my father.

"_You place far too little value on Faramir," _I told him. _"He is a valiant man, and the best captain in all of Gondor."_

" '_Best captain in all of Gondor,'" _he mimicked. _"And what of you, my son? You and I both know that beside you, your brother is nothing. He should have been born a maid, then at least his life would have been useful - we could have married him off and formed a valuable alliance."_

What Father did not notice was Faramir, standing behind him in the doorway, a shadow over his face so that I could not clearly see his expression. He must have seen me looking at him, though, for he left abruptly. My heart aches as I remember the sight of his dejected form walking away from that doorway!

"_You should not speak so ill of him all the time!" _I muttered through clenched teeth. My hand, of its own accord, found its way to my knife, as it always does when I am angered.

"_And why not, pray?" _my father asked haughtily, apparently ignoring my indignation. _"He is my son to abuse, if I see fit to do so. I will speak with you no more on this matter." _With that he swept from the room, heavy robes trailing behind him.

And so all our conversations concerning my abandoning the trip had a way of getting around to Faramir. When at last it became clear to my father that I would not give up the mission, he began to whisper in my ear about Isildur's Bane and the Sword that was broken. He spoke of a great weapon, one that could change the course of the war. One that could ensure our victory.

"_And what is this great weapon?" _I asked him. _"Is it indeed the broken blade? Of what value can it be without Isildur himself, or at least one of his kin, to bear it? Or is it Isildur's Bane itself?"_

He would not answer me straightly, and bid me not to speak of Isildur or, especially, Isildur's heirs. Even now, I can here his breathy whispers in my head.

"_Do not trouble over it now," _he said, his mouth quite close to my ear. _"You will know it when you see it; it will reveal itself to you. As you love me, bring it to me, my son. Bring it to me, that we may together restore Gondor to her full glory and see you on her throne, as king."_

So I have now two riddles to unravel, and they seem to be intertwined. Perhaps they are even one, for I truly cannot tell. If this weapon truly will reveal itself to me, why should I then travel these many leagues to Imladris, the very existence of which I am not even certain of? Valar, but I do grow weary with pondering these things!

As far as the events of today go, there is not overmuch to tell. I am still in my own country, and unfortunately nothing of any great interest befell me. I estimate to have traveled approximately fifty miles, for I rode at a goodly clip. My first goal is to reach the Gap of Rohan, which I estimate will take ten days' time, if I travel a fairly easy pace. After that, I shall continue to head west for some time. I have no wish to encounter Dunlendings, for I have no time to lose. My plan then is to go north until I either find Imladris, or someone who can tell me where it is.

I do hope this will satisfy Faramir when he reads it, for now I must sleep.


	4. Journal Entry 4

AN: I hope all the talk of what happened at home isn't too boring for anyone. I figured it would offer some character development while there isn't too much action happening, and add some dialog. If it bothers anyone, please let me know.

* * *

July 5, 3018, TA

I estimate to have traveled fifty miles today - so much for an easy pace! My horses seem as hungry for adventure as I am, and I found myself reigning them in more often than not. It may be that they are happy to be returning to the land of their forefathers, if only for a brief time. Holding to the North-South Road, I should make it to Edoras before too long, though I doubt whether or not I will tarry there. Théoden-King has not been over-friendly with my father as of late, and I wish for no trouble from him or his people. Furthermore, I would not have the people of Rohan know the purpose of my journey; I go not to seek aid, as it might appear to some, but simply to find the meaning of my riddle. I would be hard pressed, though, to make Théodred and Éomer believe that! And then there's that scamp of a maiden who, though I cannot recall her name, I do remember to be very forward and opinionated - I'm sure she would have quite a mouthful to say about the steward's son riding off when his country is in such great need! I do not wish to explain myself and my riddle, so I shall likely avoid Edoras altogether. I'm sure Father would wish it that way, too.

The sooner I am out of Gondor and Rohan, the better. I am half-way past the Drúadan Forest, but how I wish I were twice as far, at least! It seems like I know every tree, every shrub. Perhaps when I reach Enedwaith I shall find some vagrant orcs, or even a warg. I suppose Faramir would tell me how foolish I am, did he know my thoughts. It reminds me of a conversation we had the night before I left, when I kept going on to him about the dangers I would likely face.

"_Ah, Boromir! Why look for more trouble when there is so much darkness already here?" _He asked, shaking his head. I recall a sad look in his eyes, which struck me as strange.

"_I know not, Brother," _I told him, and it was true; I still am not fully aware of the reason I so long for danger. _"I suppose it has been bred into me!" _I laughed, trying to dispel the sadness on his face.

Faramir only smiled a little, still looking gloomy.

"_I fear for you," _he said. _"And I fear for myself. What will we do without Captain Boromir here? What will _I _do if -" _

I will not write it. My crazy little brother! He actually thinks I shall not return. The chance of that, my dear Faramir, is too miniscule to be reckoned. You may wish it were so, that you may inherit the rule of Gondor, but that will never be. (Know, my dear brother, that I jest when I write such!)

Woe to me for taking on a journey in the midsummer. Damn this heat! When it is day, riding at a good pace provides some relief for me, in the form of wind rushing past my face. Though, I suspect, it does not do much for the horses. So intense is the heat, it would seem we were at the mouth of Mount Doom itself! Even when the night falls there is no relief. The very earth soaks up the sun's rays during the day, simply so that it may spew the hotness at me when I try to rest. If only there were a breeze to carry some of it away. However, this gives me all the more reason to hasten on. Within two days I expect to reach Mering Stream, where I shall gladly pause my quest to cool off. By then my beasts will be happy to pause as well, I suspect.

Ah! Now that I have written thus there comes a breath of air to chasten me. My life has ever been so; I speak without proper thought, and am rebuked accordingly. How my mother used to lament me as a lost cause! I fear she was right, as I still behave in a like manner.

Gods! Damn, Faramir, this cursed book is now the cause of a tragedy. I have burned my supper, thanks to my occupation with writing in it. If this is supposed to be useful, I'd like to know how. Seeing how small a portion of meat I had to begin with, I just - would there were an orc before me now, that I could rend him with my bare hands! That, perchance, would make me feel better. Yet, even that would not fill my stomach.

I have not the heart to attempt another stew tonight. I am now forced to take my sustenance in the form of dried meat and hard bread - which I am used to, of course, but I had been expecting something nicer tonight. I shall have to think up a suitable punishment for that brother of mine, for forcing me to write in this infernal book.

* * *

Additional AN: This one is also short, because not much is going on. To those of you who review, would you rather if I wait and put multiple journal entries in one chapter? (when they're too short) Or should I post each entry as soon as it's finished?


	5. Journal Entry 5

AN: A huge** Thank you!!! **to my reviewers. You make my day!

July 7, 3018, TA

Alas, only a few days into my journey and already I am failing to write everyday! In this case, however, it is not entirely my fault, as I shall soon make clear.

Yesterday I got an early start (though I always start before dawn), and rode extremely hard for the first few hours. I hoped that by doing so I could ride slower during the heat of the day, yet still reach my day's goal by nightfall. It would have worked out, too, if it weren't for those blasted orcs.

Yes, orcs. I suppose it's my fault for wishing them here - if only all my wishes were reality! Faramir is right, I am far too hasty with my temper. Anyway, it was a little past midday and I was riding briskly, just coming abreast of Erelas. My horses were becoming restless, and I noticed that they seemed to be catching a scent off the air, which was very still. I listened intently, but couldn't hear or see anything unusual. I rode on a little faster, feeling uneasy despite my best intentions not to be alarmed. After about five minutes, the horses settled down, and I laughed aloud to think that I had been nervous. Horses are, after all, rather fickle beasts and take fright easily.

Then, something struck my side sharply and I heard the _ting_ of metal. The blow was my horn bashing against me, but I did not see what struck it. (I later concluded that it was an arrow; it must have glanced off the metal binding it, for I could find no mark.) In the same instant the wind took up, bearing the foul scent of orcs. I drew my sword. Not knowing how many I was up against, I was unsure whether a fight would be prudent. In the split-second these thoughts crossed my mind, an arrow grazed my pack-horse, eliciting a scream from the poor creature. Wheeling my horse around, I charged straight into a group of five orcs, injured beast in tow.

Although fighting on horse-back is not quite my style, I must admit it was to my advantage in this instance. I shall refrain from laying out every detail of the skirmish here, as it was rather routine. Only one carried a bow, fortunately, and he seemed rather startled when my horse ran straight at him. If he had been an intelligent creature, he would have at least tried to take down my horse; as he was not, he simply stood there gaping as I ran him over. (This is the benefit of getting horses from Rohan - they fear not war or blood, as other horses do.) I slashed at one of the others who stood near, but he leaped back out of the way, uninjured.

The remaining orcs approached me all at once, hoping to overpower me, I suppose. It was not difficult to finish them off, yet they offered more resistance than I am accustomed to. From an organized attack, certainly, but a pack of wanderers? They were well armored, too, and heavily armed. I fear there is mischief afoot, of which they were a small part.

I burned their bodies in a heap. As I watched the black smoke rise, I considered what the implications were. Though all our trouble has been coming from the east lately, it would not surprise me entirely if an attack is launched from the south or elsewhere. The main thing to ponder is, who is behind it? Orcs, on their own, are not really dangerous; it is only when someone with a strong will drives them that they become a menace.

Since I am not sure, I shall have to stop at Edoras. Curse the bloody orcs! Always causing inconveniences, even if they are easy to kill. Maybe there I can learn something about this particular group, though.

While the bodies burned, I tended my wounded horse. It was a minor wound, the arrow having only grazed his rump. The wound did not appear to be poisoned, and now, a day later, it is healing quite well. After that, I rode on until dusk, more anxious than ever to reach the stream. The skirmish with the orcs must have taken longer than I thought, because I fell a few miles short of my goal.

I made up for those miles this morning. Though I have been more watchful than usual, due to my experience yesterday, I did not come across any signs of orcs. I actually reached Mering Stream earlier than I anticipated, so I took the opportunity to do a little hunting in the nearby woods. It took several hours, but I did manage to injure a stag with my knife. After some more tracking, I found the animal struggling on the ground and quickly slit its throat. After skinning him and starting some of his flesh cooking for supper, I finally got to take my swim.

Well, it was not exactly a swim; the stream being too shallow for that. But it did feel good to just let the refreshingly cold water run over my bare skin! I chuckled as I lay there, thinking back on the many times Faramir and I went swimming as lads. He was always afraid to strip down, fearing someone would come across us we swam. Though I never relished the idea, of course, I didn't give it too much thought. At least there was no chance of that here!

When my meat was done roasting I ended my watery refreshment. I have just now finished eating, and plan to ride a few more miles before stopping for the night. If anything else worth mentioning happens between now and then, it shall have to wait for tomorrow's recording session.


	6. Journal Entry 6

July 11, 3018, TA

Faramir is probably going to kill me when he sees how I have neglected this book! Desperate times call for desperate measures, though, and I was trying to reach the Gap of Rohan by July the fourteenth - of course, that is impossible now. Delays be damned! This quest shall never end if I can't even manage to cross the Isen. And now I am stuck in Edoras.

Yes, I felt bound by my honor to stop here and report about that orc-party I slew. However, I have spent the greater part of the day here, and have not yet had audience with Théoden-King. Things seem somewhat strange around here, though I cannot place my finger on the problem. The good news is that I got to talk with Théodred and Éomer, who, surprisingly, believed my tale. At least, I think they did. It can be hard to tell with these Rohirrim, though. Théodred promised to convince his father to speak with me, which furthers my trust in the two. Now if he can only do it soon…

Ah, yes, I also saw Lady Éowyn. Though I could not recall her name, I was saved from any embarrassment by a servant, who announced her. I must admit, she is quite the beauty. (Faramir, I know, will greatly enjoy reading this - ugh!) I am sure Théodred and Éomer noticed my appreciative look - and no, it was _not_ a stare - for Théodred smirked and Éomer glared threateningly in my direction. I am not at all in the habit of noticing ladies, but Éowyn has a certain presence about her that intrigues me more than her looks. However, I swear that no indecent thought entered my mind.

The three of us rose when she entered the room, and I kissed her hand. Quickly and properly. Éomer put his arm around her shoulders protectively, but that rascal Théodred was scheming.

"_Here is a fine seat, next to Lord Boromir," _he said, gesturing to a chair beside mine.

Of course, it would have been immensely impolite for her to object - not that she would have - and she gracefully took the chair. Éomer glared menacingly at Théodred, and I was simply grateful he was not looking in my direction. Théodred returned the stare rather cockily, and after an awkward moment of silence Éomer suddenly relaxed.

"_Now Lord Boromir, what were we talking about before my sister entered?" _He said, turning towards me with an anything-but-innocent look on his face. _"Oh yes, we were talking about your engagement to Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth." _

Curses! Why did I even mention my engagement to these two? I have no idea, honestly. I have no desire to be wed. My engagement to the Princess is entirely my father's doing, so that I will give him the satisfaction of seeing my heir before he dies. Neither Lothiriel nor her father knows this, not that it would make a difference if they did. I am not necessarily too objectionable to the idea; I suppose I shall have to marry someday, and I do not fancy the thought of having to seek out an eligible maiden and woo her myself. Faramir, on the other hand, is not pleased about the whole situation.

"_Do you love her?" _He asked when he first learned of the arrangement.

"_You know that I barely know the princess, Faramir. What difference does it make? I have never been interested in love."_

"_I don't want to see you unhappy, Brother," _he said sadly.

"_I won't be unhappy," _I replied. _"Aside from my husbandly duties I won't have_ _to pay her any mind - if I don't feel like it."_

I supposed that Faramir misunderstood me; understandably, for I was never good with words. In fact, now that I read over them, my words do sound rather callous. Anyway, my brother was extremely upset.

"_If you don't care about yourself, you could at least care about the feelings of another human being!" _In truth, I had never seen Faramir this angry before. _" Princess Lothiriel deserves better than the life you would subject her to."_

"_Faramir!" _I called as he stormed away. _"That's not what I meant!"_

But he was gone. It was a long while before he would even talk to me after that, but eventually I was able to explain myself somewhat. Not too much, for I don't really understand myself what I mean.

Anyway, I was then stuck in an awful conversation, wishing with all my heart that I had never stopped at Edoras. I know barely anything about my betrothed, and of course Lady Éowyn asked me all about her. My embarrassment delighted Éomer and Théodred to no end. Fortunately, my suffering was cut short by the arrival of a guard, who summoned my tormentors to attend to the king. I did not wish to be left alone with Éowyn, so I was glad when a servant entered immediately behind the guard, to announce that my room was ready. I am sitting there now, waiting for my audience with the king. Ah! There is a knock at the door now.

* * *

AN: Sorry there isn't too much Faramir in this chapter. I promise, there is much more of him to come! As always, thanks to those who take the time to review!


End file.
